


how much like angels

by blackkat



Series: Horoscope Drabbles [25]
Category: Naruto
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern with Magic, Alternate Universe - Supernatural Elements, Angels, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-06
Updated: 2019-01-06
Packaged: 2019-10-05 06:55:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,153
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17320115
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blackkat/pseuds/blackkat
Summary: There's an angel tangled in the power lines.





	how much like angels

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by Normal Horoscopes on Tumblr:
> 
> Aquarius: The angel tangled in the power lines.

There's an angel tangled in the powerlines.

For a long moment, Tōka has no idea what to do. She stares up, stunned, but—there's no denying it. White feathers have drifted down to the dirty pavement like snow, and the limp form dangles, limp and lifeless. Hopefully not _actually_ lifeless; something turns in Tōka’s chest at the thought, and she has to take a breath to steady herself.

The electricity to this part of the grid is already off, planned maintenance she intended to complete quickly and without a fuss, though it looks like that plan has gone down the drain. Grimly, Tōka gathers her ropes, pulls the harness up over her clothes, and heads for the closest power pole, climbing up with practiced speed. The slow drift of feathers isn't fading, and she takes that as a good sign; once angels die, their feathers vanish. She might be too late to save him, but—

No one should die alone, trapped like a bird in a net.

Once she’s close, it’s easy to see why he didn’t cut himself down, despite the sword at his side. There are wounds scattered across his arms and torso, bruises on his face. His dark hair has mostly come free of its tail, falling like a dark shroud around his face, and Tōka sucks in a hissed breath through her teeth, grimacing as she leans out, carefully freeing his trapped limbs from the lines. He’s lovely, the way all angels are, and Tōka can't help looking at him as she works, careful glances at that fine-boned, fiercely beautiful face even though it makes her feel a little guilty. She’s never thought of something beautiful being terrifying before, though, and…looking at the angel, she thinks she can finally understand the connection.

“I hope you know you're throwing me off my schedule,” she says, even though he hasn’t stirred. “I was going to go home early today. Maybe even swing by the salon and see if they could fit me in for a manicure. And instead I'm helping an avenging bird-brain get his wings out of a powerline. Tobirama is going to laugh at me for _days_.”

Not that he has any room to talk. An angel fell through his skylight and just never left. As far as mishaps with angels go, Tōka is pretty sure he and Kagami are winning.

“You're lucky you're not ten pounds heavier,” Tōka mutters, and it’s not safety approved, but she wraps a length of rope around the angel’s chest and waist, careful of the wounds, and clips it to her harness before she carefully, gently eases the closer wing free of the wires. There's a lurch, just enough of a warning for Tōka to snatch at one of the handholds, and then the angel slips free. He might have hollow bird-bones, but the wrench of his weight still makes Tōka yelp, almost jolted from her perch. Grimly, she grits her teeth, tightening her hold, checks to be sure that he won't swing into the pole, and then starts to make her way down one step at a time.

Reaching the ground is a relief, and Tōka lets go with a sigh, eases off the pole, and immediately crouches down to check the angel where he’s lying crumpled on the pavement. At the touch of her hand, he stirs, and Tōka leans over him just as he opens his eyes. It takes a moment for them to focus, several blinks, and Tōka can't quite tear her attention away from the way his long lashes brush his pale cheeks.

“Who are you?” he whispers, and a hand comes up to touch Tōka’s cheek. The brush of his skin feels like static on the radio giving way to crystal clarity, and Tōka’s breath catches.

“Tōka,” she says, and pulls a feather from his hair. Not one of his—black, instead, with a pearlescent sheen. Some sort of fey he was fighting, most likely; they tend to favor ravens and crows. “I'm with the power company. You got tangled in the lines.”

Those dark eyes flutter shut again, and the angel breathes out a laugh. “No wonder it felt like a lightning storm.”

Despite herself, Tōka can't quite fight a smile. “No wonder,” she echoes, and glances back at her van. The company will be understanding if she tells them she found an injured angel, and she can always come back and do the necessary work tomorrow. “Do you have somewhere I can take you?” she asks. “Your wings…”

The angel flexes his wings, but they’ve lost enough feathers that he’s not getting off the ground any time soon. Which is a problem, since most angels live above the clouds. Well, not counting the one camped out in Tobirama’s apartment. “I—I don’t,” he says in frustration. “I've never been in the human world before.”

Probably an elitist, Tōka thinks, a little judgmental. Angels who think they're better than humans, more civilized, more _advanced_. Puffed up pretty boys in Tōka’s opinion.

“Well,” she says dryly, “if you don’t mind slumming it at my place, I have a spare bedroom. Come on, it’s not too far.” She rises and offers the angel a hand, half-expecting him not to take it.

And, for a moment, he looks like he isn't going to; his eyes rest on her fingers, faintly narrowed, before he glances up at her face. Hesitates, looking torn, and then grimaces and reaches out, setting his hand in hers. “My brother is _never_ going to let me live this down,” he complains. “Saved by a _human_.”

Tōka doesn’t bother to tell him that her mother was a succubus, even though it’s tempting. “Uh-huh,” she says, even drier. “If you can manage to get more than three inches off the ground with those wings, birdbrain, I’ll give you my whole paycheck. Duck.”

“Where—ow!”

With a sigh, Tōka puts a hand on his head, shoves him a few inches lower to save her van from another encounter with his head, and says, “If you get feathers in my equipment, I'm going to make you eat them.”

“You're _rude_ ,” the angel complains, but he pulls his wings in around him, carefully setting on the floor. “I was protecting your skies from a vicious—”

“Fairy?” Tōka finishes sweetly, and the angel harrumphs and slumps down against the wall.

“Obito's half-angel,” he mutters, like that’s excuse enough, and Tōka rolls her eyes.

“Got a name, or should I just keep calling you _pissy angel_?” she asks.

That gets her a squawk, entirely offended. “I'm _Izuna Uchiha_ ,” he protests, indignant. “From the highest ranks of seraphim—”

Tōka turns the radio on, drowning out his recital with the cacophony of drums from her favorite metal band, then puts the van in gear. “Hang on,” she calls back.

It’s definitely not her fault that Izuna is too busy squawking to hear her.


End file.
